Snapshot
by ViolentInk
Summary: Sometimes a snapshot can offer more insight into people than you think. WeskerxChris drabbles, set in the STARSverse.
1. Part 1: Tattoo, Elastic and Sausage

**A/N: Hi! Just a quick note to say that this is my first try at 'drabbles' of any kind (I'm much rather one for longer, more intricate stories) and due to their nature, I'll be posting them in sets of three just so each chapter isn't _too _short. It's more a challenge to myself to flesh out odd and quirky ideas than anything else, really. A quick warning, these contain various headcanons that you may or may not agree with, depending on your stance in the fandom, and do range in rating from PG to very much M-rated. Hope you enjoy them anyway, and don't forget to review! Any critical feedback is appreciated.**

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**Snapshot**

**Part 1**

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_Number 19 – Tattoo_

One rather intimate fact that nobody actually knew about Wesker was that he had a tattoo.

It was a relatively small one, nothing outrageous. To be honest, when he'd learnt of his lover's piece of body art Chris had actually been startled that Wesker _had _one. It just didn't seem like the stuck-up, aristocratic blonde to have such a thing. Mind you, his relationship with Wesker was just full of surprises. Why couldn't this be one more?

The little bit of ink was actually on his left hipbone; a strange tribal design that Chris wasn't entirely sure of the meaning of. Studying the marks didn't reveal much information, as the way the tattoo was done it could be any one of a number of things. From one angle, it looked rather like a diving phoenix, and from another he swore it was a dragon. He'd also quite often been rather…distracted when that piece of flesh was in his sight, although he had traced it with his tongue once or twice.

When Wesker had first showed him it, the man had asked Chris if he liked it. Chris did, for two reasons – one, it was one of those odd little things that brought a smile to his lips, and two, he thought that it embodied Wesker perfectly.

Intricate, yet simple. Strange, yet wonderful. But most importantly, permanent – like Wesker's presence in his life.

**/**

_Number 3 – Elastic_

"I don't see why you buy these, you know, Christopher. They just get in the way."

Chris sighed dramatically, folding up another pair of his Y-fronts for the dresser. "Just because you'd rather I was either commando or naked all the time doesn't mean I want to be, thanks." With that he dumped the small pile of them in the top drawer and closed it, trying to effectively end the conversation.

However, Wesker either didn't notice or didn't care about the little social cue. Most likely the latter, knowing the smug prick. "I'm simply saying that your god-awful taste in underwear needs to improve."

"Hey, they're _comfy, _alright? At least I don't own ten pairs of silk-"

"Twelve."

A tic started developing in Chris' forehead. "Heh?"

"It's twelve pairs."

"For the love of – _twelve _pairs of silk boxers, then. I'd rather not walk around feeling…like that all day, alright? So can we leave the subject of underwear _alone _already?"

Wesker simply smirked, getting up from the bed where he sat and walking over to the brunette, smiling wider when he noticed the light blush on his boyfriend's cheeks. Two large, strong hands gently gripped Chris' hips, who let out a rather undignified squeak.

"Tell me, Christopher…what do you mean by feeling like 'that' all day, hmm?" He started to lay kisses along the slim lines of Chris' throat, moving up to his ear so he could whisper, "Do you mean like _this, _pet?", enunciating the word 'this' by cupping Chris' groin through his loose sweatpants.

The breathy, barely audible moan Chris let out was answer enough. Blown away by the ensuing fuck that occurred, Chris never did learn Wesker's real reason behind hating his choice of underwear, which was quite simply he couldn't stand the elastic in the damn things. That, and they were another layer between him and Chris naked.

**/**

_Number 7 – Sausage_

Wesker could not cook for shit.

Chris had learnt this somewhat early on in their relationship, at the two-month mark, actually. The night before had been the first time they had made love (Chris still couldn't get over how brilliantly skilled Wesker's tongue was) and Chris had ended up sleeping curled up next to the blonde police officer, arse _very _sore but thinking that it was definitely worth it.

Only, his blissful moments dozing in bed the next morning had been shattered when he heard copious swearing coming from the kitchen. Extracting himself from the warmth and comfort, Chris had made his way to the kitchen after slipping on his boxers, curious but cautious.

He swore it had been the hardest he had ever laughed. Seeing his boyfriend covered in flour trying to cook pancakes for breakfast was just _funny. _That the great Albert Wesker had a flaw as simple as this was absolute gold for him. Eventually, after wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes, he'd seen Wesker giving him a look – a mix of indignation, frustration…and embarrassment?

With a smile, Chris had kissed him on the lips, told him, "I'll cook breakfast, okay?" and taken a packet of sausages from the fridge. True, they ended up getting burnt when Wesker had the brilliant idea of sex on the kitchen counter, but it was the thought that counted.

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**A/N: Well, there's the first set. Hope you enjoy them, please review and I'll post more as soon as they're done! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Part 2: Love, Paranoia and Riding

**A/N: Part 2! This would have taken longer, but I got caught in a creative spurt (not as dirty as it sounds). Not too sure about #13, but it was either that or attempt to rewrite...which would have taken forever and would have probably ended up worse. This chapter is also very much rated M, if only for the 3rd drabble.**

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**Snapshot**

**Part 2**

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_Number 21 – Love_

"I love you."

Funny how it had been Wesker to say it first, and so early in the relationship, too. Even weirder was how _casual _the man had been about saying such a thing, as if he gave out declarations of love every day (which was most certainly not the case). And as if that wasn't crazy enough, the man had picked first thing in the morning to say it, too!

Chris was rather a traditionalist when it came to relationships, he'd admit - although he wouldn't admit to being an absolute hopeless romantic. He'd always imagined professions of love to be something one would do when on a moonlight walk on the beach after a dinner, or on Valentine's Day, or during a marriage proposal, or_..._well, anything _but _what Wesker had done. As a teenager he'd always preffered the sappy romance movies over explosion-a-minute-action, which Forest had never been able to understand and had almost constantly teased him for it.

He'd expected flowers. He'd expected a walk on the beach. He'd expected every damn cliche those romance novelists had ever spewed out.

But after indulging in some lazy early morning sex, Chris had made his way to the kitchen to get a drink. He had not expected his boyfriend of nearly three months to come up behind him and sneak him arms around the brunette's middle. Laughing, Chris turned around and hugged the man, breathing in his heady scent (an eclectic mix of sandalwood and something that was undeniably _Wesker_). Resting his head on top of Chris', those three words came almost silently from the man's mouth.

_I love you._

Not that Chris was complaining. He wouldn't have it any other way, really.

**_/_**

_Number 13 – Paranoia_

Chris sighed. _The man wasn't even trying, was he?_

Ever since they set foot in this restaurant, Wesker had been in one of _those _moods. Not the average bad mood when something went wrong at the station and he was left to pick up the pieces, or the kind of mood where his mind simply did not understand the concept of the word 'no' when it came to sex (those happened far too often for Chris' taste) but _that _mood, specifically. The one where the man would simply sit in pure silence, although you could tell he was seething with rage. Sulking was probably a good name for it, but to Chris it seemed a little too intense for that label.

Just because the waiter was lightly flirting with him was _not _a proper reason to be like this, surely?

All there had been was the sly winks, and the innuendo-laden comments...and brushing his hand against Chris' when he'd taken the menus...

They'd been sitting in silence the entire meal, except when they'd ordered, and Chris was getting very uncomfortable. If they weren't in public, he'd attempt to get a reaction out of the blonde, but the situation was somewhat volatile. He'd never seen Wesker get _this _bad before, and the STARS captain could be unpredictable at the best of times.

"If I wasn't here, would you answer him?"

The question startled him. He quickly looked up from the napkin he'd been fiddling with while in thought, catching the eyes of his lover, who had an eyebrow raised as he waited for an answer.

"W-wha-do you have to be so _paranoid?"_

"Yes. When it comes to you, even more so."

**/**

_Number 1 – Riding_

"Haa-ah…ah…ah…"

Before Chris, Albert had never let anyone ride him before. He didn't like giving up any portion of his coveted control or power up, and letting someone be on top of him, no matter whose cock was going where, just seemed far too submissive for his tastes.

"O-ohh…uh…uhhhn…"

True, sex was sex, but he'd been with a few partners who'd been quite insistent they take the top. It had taken a lot of persuading to convince them otherwise, and he had had a few people walk out on him when they realised just how damn picky he was being.

"U-uaa-naaa…o-ah…ahhh…"

But then he'd met Chris. And for the longest time, Wesker hadn't been able to get the thought of the brunette riding his cock out of his head. He'd woken up a lot of times panting, hard as a rock from wet dreams involving that very fantasy. What he hadn't expected was for that fantasy to come true.

"A-Aaah!"

He groaned lowly at the feel of the velvet walls caressing him flutter, opening his golden eyes to see the young pointman having the time of his life, slowly rolling up and down on his captain's large manhood as they made love in the early morning hours. Baby blues hazed over with lust, a beautiful flush over Chris' cheeks and partly down his chest, that delicious, pretty cock leaking headily and giving light bounces with each little smack of flesh…

Maybe letting go of a little control wasn't so bad, every now and then. Especially when you weren't really losing any control in the first place.

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**A/N: As before, review! And I do hope you enjoyed this.**


	3. Part 3: Acceptance, Cranky and Sedative

**A/N: Part 3 for your viewing pleasure. Big thanks go out to my reviewers, your support warms my heart! Thank you also to those who fave'd, it makes me a very happy bunny. I told myself I wouldn't update as quickly as I am, that I'd let there be a little time between updates...but I can't stop myself. It's like reverse writer's block. This chapter somewhat T-rated, possibly M for mentions of hawt smexings. **

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**Snapshot**

**Part 3**

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_Number 2 – Acceptance_

Claire did not take to the news of their relationship very well. At all.

After first screaming for half an hour about how the blonde captain had 'corrupted' her older brother, she had proceeded to shriek for _another _half hour about how evil said man was. Chris had finally been able to shut her up for long enough to try and explain just why him and Wesker were dating.

Wesker had, naturally, been very _un_helpful, interjecting enough dirty remarks that Chris eventually sent him out of the room, with the threat that if Wesker didn't either leave the room or shut up, he'd be cut off from sex for the next week. The blonde had almost been able to hear his penis scream at that prospect…

It had taken time for Claire to eventually stop despising Wesker and go down to just mildly loathing him, but as Chris said, "Any progress is good progress."

Wesker was fairly certain the female Redfield would never accept him with open arms, but at times when he and Chris were lying in bed together on a lazy Sunday morning, or working together, or even just sharing a conversation, he realised he didn't really care. So long as he had Chris, he was happy. Love made you feel crazy things.

**_/_**

_Number 28 - Cranky_

To say Wesker wasn't a morning person was a ridiculous understatement.

Before sex, coffee, or sex _with _coffee (that mocha-flavored body paint was still a firm favorite) the captain had the personality and temperament of a wolverine. Not that it was very different from him normally, but still Chris found himself walking on eggshells around his boyfriend first thing in the morning. The only way Wesker wouldn't be cranky was if he was horny. Chris wasn't sure which was the lesser of the two evils, really.

This morning, it was obvious Wesker had bypassed cranky and had gone to ridiculously horny. It was a Thursday, which meant they had to be in the station for 8.30 for Iron's ridiculous weekly meeting...where he would do nothing but talk about himself...

"Nn, stop it, Wes. We're going to be late."

The blonde looked up from the brunette's collarbone, where he was teasing the little dip in the middle of it with that _motherfucking-glorious _tongue. The way his eyes had darkened from their usual hazel-gold to almost copper suggested that while he heard Chris loud and clear, he was not going to stop.

"I don't even know why I bothe_-__aaahh..." _Chris' voice faded into a moan when one of his hot pink nipples was licked sensually by that _should-be-bloody-illegal _tongue, calloused fingertips coming up to tease the other one. He squirmed beneath the touches, knowing if he allowed this to continue for much longer, he'd be pure putty in the man's hands. A quick glance at the clock - 7.45 - told him that this needed to stop, now.

"A-ahhn...W-Wes, you know Irons i-is gonna be having one of his meetings-"

A low growl came from the blonde. "Do _not _mention that man's name in bed, Chris. It's the most un-erotic thing in the world." Moving up so his mouth was level with Chris', he moved their hips together, attempting to divert his lover's attention. He succeeded when the brunette gasped, shaking slightly as he felt his captain's thick hardness pressing against his own. Wesker's smile turned from horny to devious.

"Now," he murmured, lips brushing against his lover's, "if you said _my _name..."

They ended up being late to work. And from the fact that Jill was giggling at they way Chris walked, it was fairly obvious _why. _

Wesker wasn't the only one who could be cranky in the mornings.

**/**

_Number 17 - Sedative_

Wesker clasped the flailing arm in his iron grip, grunting irritably.

Chris was really the worst person in the world to sleep beside. Not only did he snore (although thankfully it wasn't the sort of snoring that sounded like a train wreck, and was actually rather cute) but the bastard also talked in his sleep and _moved. _Not only did he move roughly and quite often, which did sometimes make it very difficult to sleep, but since Wesker was right beside him, he was a sitting duck for when Chris got a bout of the 'night jitters' as the cheeky brunette had dubbed it. Wesker had nursed many a bruise from those 'jitters'. And to make matters _even worse, _he seemed to see Wesker as a giant teddy bear, clamping down on one of his arms or sprawling across his chest.

It was 3.21 in the morning exactly, and Chris was very much in la-la land. Wesker, however, was wide awake, and cursing his boyfriend's sleeping habits. He heard a mumbled 'No, not the turtle...' and scoffed. Deciding he didn't want to know, and also that he didn't want to be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour, he dropped the boy's arm (which to his luck didn't attack him again) and shook the officer's shoulder.

"Wake up, brat."

"Nnmm...Wes?" Chris' eyes were half-lidded, and he was looking over his shoulder almost seductively. Wesker felt a slight tightening in his groin, but decided for the sake of his argument that sex probably wasn't the best idea right now.

"You're keeping me awake. I thought I would return the sentiment." Chris made a noise, sticking his tongue out at his superior, who rolled his eyes. "You're ridiculously childish when you're half-asleep...actually, make that ridiculously childish _all _the time."

"Mmph...what would you know? You snore too, y'know."

"I should force-feed you sedatives. Maybe I'll get a decent night's sleep for once."

Chris yawned (adorably) and snuggled up to the blonde's side again, drawing circles on his bare, muscular chest. "But you love me too much for that..." A sigh followed, a strong arm wrapping round Chris' shoulders and a soft kiss to the boy's hairline.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't contemplate it, dear heart."

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**A/N: Okay. Quick question goes out to all of you - should I update less? I don't know. Half-wondering if I'm going to burn myself out with all this writing then not be able to write for a while. Any comments appreciated. Also #17 was much harder to write than it should have been.**


	4. Part 4: Remote Control and Cashier

**A/N: Thanks to those who answered my quick query! This is probably going to be an ongoing thing that I do, in between writing other things. Also, if you want to see a certain word or starting point turned into a drabble, don't hesitate to PM me. I do love a challenge! Anyway, this chapter is rated M for you-know-what. *coughsextoyscough* Oh, and there's only two in this part, mainly for length purposes and to condense ideas. Enjoy!**

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**Snapshot**

**Part 4**

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_Number 6 - Remote Control_

_How _had he let himself into this situation, again?

It wasn't as if Wesker had much to threaten him with if he didn't comply with it. They lived in the same house, after all, and Chris had plenty of dirt on Wesker's bad habits (such as his non-existent cooking skills). So if blackmail wasn't the reason why he was currently squirming in his seat, what was?

Well, he did suppose he had been very distracted when he'd agreed to this (having a rather large cock shoved up your arse was a pretty good distraction) and the way Wesker had been dirty talking to him (his secret kink) the entire time hadn't helped. Eventually, being denied his release multiple times, Chris had lost it and screamed that _fuck, _Wesker could do anything to him, even ram him in the city centre in the middle of the day if the man would just let him cum!

And now the consequences. He hadn't seen the evil smirk when he'd fallen asleep after that (amazing) shag, but he sure as all hell saw it that morning when the man had shown him the 'device' that he wanted his 'anything' to be.

Chris bit his lip to hold in the whine as the butt plug nudged his prostate further. It wasn't so much the toy itself that pissed him off (they'd used a variety of toys before), but rather that Wesker had wanted him to wear it to work! He was certian that Forest suspected something from the looks he kept shooting his way, and Jill seemed to outright know what was going on. _Bastard, _the marksman thought irritably, feeling his cock throb. That git must have _known _how this sodding thing would keep him horny as all hell throughout the day. It was pure, unadultered _torture!_ He couldn't even go to the bathroom and jerk off!

Just as he was getting angry enough to go to Wesker and demand that the captain let him take it out, it - _OH FUCK! _It was _vibrating! _Chris hunched over, grabbing his stomach as he bit harder to stifle the moan that ripped itself from his throat, enough to draw a drop of blood. His new position certainly didn't help, in fact it was pressing the thing even harder into that magic little spot...it was taking absolutely all of Chris' self control to not come in his pants. He was certain if Forest didn't realize what was going on before, he did now, and he could sense Jill's smirk from two desks away!

"Chris, if you're sick you should really go home."

His head shot up in shock to see the source of all his misery standing before his desk, arms crossed over his chest with one elegant gold eyebrow raised. Knowing that he was blushing a storm, he awkwardly replied, "Eheh, n-no I'm fine. Just some cramps, nn...n-nothing s-serious!"

"Very well," Wesker sighed, and by all accounts looked 'concerned' for his subordinate, although even with the sunglasses on Chris could see the perverted gleam in his eye. _The fucker's getting off on this! _he thought, rage bubbling through his veins. Right, that was IT! That bastard wasn't getting sex for a month!...after they had a marathon sex session to get rid of all the tension the little device was causing, of course.

Chris glared at his lover's back as the man walked back to his office, although a gleam of unexpected color caught his attention. He focused (as much as he could with the thing keeping him on the brink of blowing his load into his boxers) and saw...

...in Wesker's right hand, was a hot pink, tiny remote control.

**/**

_Number 13 - Cashier_

Okay.

It was_ officially_ Chris' turn to be the jealous one.

Wesker may have acted just a little bit out of line when it came to that waiter a few weeks ago, but he was suddenly starting to see the blonde's side of the argument. Especially when that bloody woman would not stop flirting with him…Chris subtly glared at the cashier, getting the urge to ram that finger that she was constantly curling her hair around (no doubt to try and look sexy) straight in her eye. For fuck's sake, they had only come here to get some spare lube (apparently 3 bottles of the stuff weren't enough, although _why _worried Chris quite a lot).

He cleared his throat, trying to signal to his boyfriend that they should hurry up. Unfortunately for him, the blonde was apparently oblivious to his efforts, continuing to talk to the pharmacy woman. And no, Chris was not jealous. He was _not _getting jealous over some pharmacy girl...

Finally, after what felt like an eon but was only a few minutes, Wesker finished up, took the lube in the small paper bag and motioned to his lover to leave with him. _Oh thank God! _Chris felt a weight start to lift from his chest. _Now we can get the bloody hell away from here-_

"Oh, Cassandra?"

_-as far aware as we ca-wait. He...knows her name?_

"Yes?"

"Do call me when you get that new shipment of the strawberry ones."

She smiled coyly. "But of course."

Chris blinked. Then blinked again. Then the weight crashed back down, ten times heavier. _She. Has. His. Number. _Oh, that was it. Someone was going to die. He couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't be Wesker, either...and with that thought, he turned on his heel and started to storm out of the shop. Wesker followed, looking a mix of exasperated and affectionate.

"So, Cass, who was that tall drink of water, hmm?" Cass turned to see her coworker smiling in the direction of the blonde man.

"It's such a shame, isn't it? All the good-looking ones are either taken, gay, or both..." She sighed, returned to filing her nails, smiling at the back of the very pissed off brunette. "Oh well, at least I've helped him get laid. Angry sex _is _supposed to be one of the best kinds, you know..."

**/**

**A/N: ...I love tormenting poor Chris far too much. Poor puppy...question for this chapter is that I have two ideas for longer, multi-chap fics (both WxC, of course). One of them is an AU fic, and the other is a STARSverse one. Considering doing the STARSverse one first to get more into their characters and understand them better first. If any of you would like to see them come to fruition, let me know. As before, any comments appreciated, do review and I hope you enjoyed! **


	5. Part 5: Summer, Mutton and Fireworks

**AN: AAaaand I'm back! Sorry for not posting over the weekend, but seeing as it was Easter I was a busy bee. Anyway, just to let you know that I have a few projects upcoming with regards to fanfiction, so I will be posting those soon. One is a oneshot and the other is a multi-chap piece I've been thinking about for a while. This chapter is rated T, mainly because it isn't too graphic and the last drabble is just full of fluff. Enjoy!**

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**Snapshot**

**Part 5**

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_Number 26 - Summer_

Wesker hated summer.

It was the time of year when even in the mountainous Raccoon City, it felt like Satan's boiler room. The sun was almost relentless, pounding away at the tarmac so that touching it almost burned. Air conditioning systems were worshiped as gods during this time, and if anything went wrong with them, productivity was shot down to nil. Not that anyone actually wanted to work during this period - they all wanted to be out in the sun, enjoying themselves (except for Wesker, of course).

The main reason, however, was that Wesker burnt. He didn't burn then turn tan, like so many people did, but turned properly scarlet if he was in the sun for too long without some high-strength suncream. And no matter how thorough he thought he was with it, there was always at least one little patch that he forgot, and thus became utterly scorched. Large sunburns were terrible, but small ones were worse for the sheer irritation factor. Plus, STARS uniform was not made of the softest material, so combined with sunburns and scorching temperatures, it became a recipe for torture.

Why did people insist on practically stripping down to nothing in the summer, anyway? The amount of women he'd seen wandering around the city in nothing more than bikini tops and shorts so small they were practically underwear was _ridiculous. _And why did those women have to try and flirt with _him? _He sighed irritatingly, but smirked when he remembered the last time Chris had seen a woman flirting with him. _Really, he loses a lot of his inhibitions when he's mad._

He didn't, however, remember giving his subordinates permission to dress so casually. Tank tops and miniskirts seemed to be the order of the day with Jill and Rebecca, and the only man who was wearing something even remotely decent was himself. Although, he couldn't really say it was all bad, as his eyes followed Chris changing his sweaty tank top for a clean one in the middle of his office...

_...the lightly tanned, lithe body, that little drip of sweat he could see inching down the small of Chris' back and into those tight cargo shorts..._

Wesker didn't hate summer. He loathed it. After all, if it wasn't for summer, he wouldn't be sitting behind his desk with a raging boner right now.

**/**

_Number 4 - Mutton_

"By the gods, what are you wearing?"

This (exasperated) comment came from the blonde STARS captain, who was glaring at his boyfriend of nearly a year. Chris rolled his eyes, leaning back against the doorframe. He had honestly half-expected some form of irritated statement about how 'you can't go out looking like that'. Wesker had a very sharp sense of fashion, whereas Chris did not. It had caused more than one argument in the course of their relationship.

"It's just a shirt, Wes-"

"_That," _Wesker growled, "is not a shirt. That is a travesty."

"What, and _you've _never worn a Hawaiian shirt before?" The blue shirt with golden-yellow flowers he thought was quite nice. It was getting pretty warm, after all, and these shirts were designed for summer wear...so why not? He'd actually thought it kinda looked good, what with the white tank and green shorts. Besides, Wesker had said casual wear. Not his fault that he and Wesker had completely different ideas of 'casual'. Wesker thought casual was a classy cashmere sweater, and god forbid what he thought was _posh._

"Of course not. The only thing they're fit for is the bin."

"Jill thought it was nice-"

"The woman lied through her teeth, then. You're lamb dressed as mutton Chris. It's not a good look."

Chris huffed, glaring at him. "If I wore anything that you consider 'decent' you'd refuse to let me out anyway! Remember last time, with the green silk shirt? I found that thing on the ceiling fan! Along with my boxers!"

"But my tasty little lamb, surely you understand a wolf such as I can't resist such a treat-"

"STOP TALKING LIKE I'M FOOD, DAMMIT!"

**/**

_Number 15 - Fireworks_

Chris had always been fascinated by fireworks.

As a child, his mother had always taken him to a certain 4th of July celebration not too far from Raccoon City, in a small town to the south. The hillsides had been perfect for watching the great blooms of color light up the night sky, and his baby-blue eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates the first time he was allowed to go. His childish imagination had tried to come up with all sorts of ideas as to how the explosions of light worked, each more fantastical and unlikely than the first. When he grew older, Chris had made a point of going to the same celebration every year, and to see firework shows every chance he got.

So it came as a horrifically shocking moment when he learnt his boyfriend was doing nothing for Independence day. Not going to see any firework shows, or even having one of his own! What the blonde captain had planned was to stay at home and have a quiet evening in, but Chris simply wouldn't have it.

"C'mon, c'mon, you lazy ass, we're not going to get the best seats if you're so slow!" Chris tugged on Wesker's jacket sleeve, trying to hurry him up. The man sighed, rolling his eyes at his lover's ridiculous antics.

"Chris, there is no such thing as a 'best seat', here. We are on a hill, sitting in the dirt. The exact opposite of 'best seat'."

The brunette stuck his tongue out at him, and simply dragged more forcibly on his arm. Wesker gave up trying to calm his obviously hyperactive lover down, knowing there was no point in even _trying_ when Chris got like this. After a few more minutes of hiking up the hill, they reached the apex, where several other couples had already earmarked their own little spots. Yanking Wesker down to sit beside him, Chris started talking excitedly, garnering a few irritated looks from the other inhabitants of the hill.

But when the firework display started, Chris fell silent. Wesker watched the display for a few minutes, then felt a head resting on his shoulder. Looking down, he saw Chris gazing with an almost childish reverence up at the colorful night sky...and couldn't help but smile when he felt Chris' hand seeking his own out shyly. Clasping the brunette's left hand with his right, he slipped one arm around Chris' waist and pulled him closer. The light provided by the fireworks lit the outline of Chris' features, giving him an almost ethereal look. And not for the first time since he started dating Chris, he felt a strange, but pleasant warmth run through his chest.

"Isn't it beautiful, Wes?"

"Yes, dear heart. It is."

**/**

**AN: UGH. I had to rewrite that entire last one as my computer screwed up just as I was about to save...there are most definitely downsides to this wonderful technology-driven world we live in! As usual, review and I hope you liked it!**


	6. Part 6: Moonlight and Bananas

**AN: So sorry this took a while! Have been a constant mix of busy/stressed/writer's block. But I have sat down and forced my ass to write, and here's the result! Very, VERY much M-rated. When I'm down, porn is the only thing I can seem to write. I also condensed this one down to two, as I did a few parts back. Enjoy!**

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**Snapshot**

**Part 6**

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_Number 29 - Moonlight_

Generally, Wesker wasn't the romantic type. Most would think he was the definition of anti-romance, what with his generally cold, aloof attitude. But there were occasions when the man would make an exception. Such as their first anniversary.

He had it all perfect. It had taken some doing to get both him and Chris a few days off, what with Irons being such an inconsiderate ass, but he had pulled a few strings and got it done. He'd bought some takeout from their favorite Chinese place, rented a movie his lover had wanted to see, and even visited a high-class florist to get some exceedingly expensive (yet beautiful) roses. The champagne was likewise a stab in the wallet, but he had it on good credit that this one was a pure oral orgasm. Sure, he was visiting all the cliches of a romantic night in, but you had to give him some credit.

Going past cliches, he had bought something that veered away from romantic and went straight towards kinky. Possibly his favorite purchase of the last few days was some luxurious silk bondage rope. Oh, Wesker definitely had plans for _that._Ones that involved Chris and that new lube he'd been saving for a special occasion. If it wasn't already obvious, the blonde thought that their first anniversary was a _very_ special occasion.

Because at the end of the day, all these little things simply faded into nothing. And later that night, holding an exhausted but sated Chris in the moonlight streaming through their bedroom window after some intense lovemaking, he knew that every little scrap of effort was truly _worth it._

**/**

_Number 8 - Banana_

_Fuck my life._

Now how had Albert Wesker ended up thinking such a thing? You would think he had a very good life, and was very content. He had a lovely apartment in one of the classier parts of the city, he had a good car, a challenging but rewarding job and he had an energetic, beautiful lover. So what made him so very frustrated on this Tuesday afternoon?

Well, quite simply, it was the last part of that equation. Christopher James Redfield. Normally his boyfriend had a funny, if childish, sense of humor. But he did have a tendency to take things too far and blow them all out of proportion. Like, for instance, the simple act of eating a banana.

Wesker was generally a calm man. He didn't let very much get to him, and was looked up to by many people for just that trait. But Chris was the exception to this. The brat had an annoying habit of being able to get under his skin so easily it was almost laughable. And what Chris was doing to get under his skin at that very moment was practically giving the banana a fucking blowjob in the middle of a meeting! As if it wasn't hard enough to concentrate when Irons prattled on about this, that and the other!

He tightened his hand beneath the table into a fist, resisting the urge to yank the fruit away from Chris and shove his cock there instead.

He _knew _how bloody sinful that mouth could be. After all, he had trained it. Chris had never given a blowjob before he met Wesker, and his first attempts had been clumsy at best. But Chris was as stubborn as a mule, and refused to give up. Wesker had the delight of being the recipient of much 'practice', although Chris was ridiculously shy about such things then (and still was to some degree).

_So what the hell is he doing, practically giving a live porn show?_

This had to be payback for that incident in the office earlier in the week, it had to be. It wasn't his fault Chris' neck looked so delicious! And was it really his fault that Jill noticed? Okay, so he'd made a fairly large lovebite in a fairly obvious place, but that wasn't _truly_ his fault, surely? The one traitorous hand that was under the table almost unconsciously grazed over the very obvious bulge in his pants, to which Wesker stiffened and had to exert supreme self control to remove it. The idea to excuse himself to go jerk off in his office was tempting, but he was Albert fucking Wesker, dammit. He would _not _give in. He wouldn't resort to wanking (not that he had since he and Chris got together) when he could just as easily bend Chris over the table and slide his swollen, thick cock between those luscious ass cheeks..._  
><em>

He sent a burning glare at his lover, who had finished up his snack and was now nibbling on a pen in a most provocative manner. Obviously sensing eyes on him, baby-blues glanced up to meet the gaze of his captain. To which he simply smirked, sucking on the pen lid and letting it slide out of his mouth with a light _pop._

Chris fucking _knew _what he was doing.

Oh, that was it. He was getting the bindings and paddle out tonight. Maybe the ballgag, too...

/

**AN: *cough* WELL THEN. This chapter was pretty fun, albeit took me forever for what it is. Anyway, I thought I would let you people know I have a tumblr! (Simply search for violentink). Wouldn't say I'm massively happy with the first, but I kind of wanted to give more Wesker's perspective on their relationship (as I know I do write quite a bit from Chris' viewpoint. I _am _working on other projects, but thought I should get this out there first as I had such sweet little ideas...hope you enjoyed, criticism welcomed!**


	7. Part 7: Lonely, Medicine and Aroma

**AN: Thank you everybody for your kind support! These drabbles can be rather challenging, but they're very interesting to write. I think I'm going to make 30 drabbles in total, but I may make more if people want them or if I get a burst of inspiration or something. Also - in my headcanon, Chris and Wesker are 3 years younger (specifically, 22 and 35). I do this because I prefer boyish Chris. Anyway, on with the show!**

**/**

**Snapshot**

**Part 7**

**/**

_Number 16 -_ _Lonely_

As a child, Albert had been a loner. His father, Arthur Wesker, had always been a cold man, even to his own wife and son. As the front of one of the most profitable and advanced medical companies, it could be said that he had to be to survive in such a cutthroat industry. His mother Angelique was a model and a socialite, constantly either working, promoting the popular product-of-the-moment or mixing in exclusive social circles. It was from her that Albert inherited his shockingly good looks and blonde hair. But the point was that, though he came from such a distinguished and esteemed family, he was essentially alone for much of his childhood. Although he was physically surrounded by people, the boy had never connected with anyone on an emotional level. Not even his parents.

Albert had been home-schooled by specially selected tutors, who proclaimed him a child of incredible mental agility. Whether this was a good or bad thing remained to be seen, though, had he had managed to reduce several of his Oxford-educated teachers to tears, followed quickly by their resignations. When one of them timidly suggested boarding school to his father, Arthur had accepted quickly. By then, however, the damage had been done. He rarely associated with his classmates, deeming them all inferior and unworthy of social interaction.

But he still felt that ache of loneliness, of being separated from the world by an invisible barrier. Through his adolescence and a lot of his adulthood, he had felt himself somewhat hampered by that conditioning. Professional relationships and friendships were only a little dissuaded by his cold, aloof nature, but his early attempts at romantic relationships were nothing short of a disaster. Nobody seemed to live up to his great expectations, and he found himself struggling to emotionally commit. For a long time, one-night-stands and fuck-buddies had been his only source of physical closeness to another.

In Chris, he found the antidote for all of that. Chris had mellowed him, burrowed underneath the walls and brought him out of his shell. He managed to make Albert smile, which was a rarity in itself, but most importantly Chris lifted away that weight that had been a constant companion for almost 35 years.

And the blonde could wish for no more.

**/**

_Number 20 - Medicine_

"No."

"Oh come on, Wes, you have to...you're not going to get better otherwise, are you?"

Wesker replied hoarsely, "I'm not sick dammit, I don't get sick-" before descending into a harsh coughing fit. Chris sighed. Wesker had been like this since he woke up that morning. Throat like sandpaper, head aching, running a mild fever, blocked nose and generally groggy. To be honest, the brunette wasn't surprised - the station had been like a landmine of illness the past two weeks. Barry kept getting bugs from his daughters which they got from school, and therefore spread them through the whole STARS team. In fact, he was more surprised that Wesker had gone this long without getting sick.

The blonde sniffed, rubbing his red nose with the back of his hand. "Not putting up with this 'illness' bullshit...some microscopic cells are _not _going to stop me from going about my daily life. I'm Albert-fucking-Wesker, I can beat this." He tried to sit up, only to groan as the change in position made him dizzy and slump right back down again onto the pillows.

"Sorry, love, but until you can actually move without falling over you're not going anywhere but this bed. And take your medicine." Chris straightened the blankets and got up to leave the room, but then felt his wrist being grabbed. He looked back into weary golden eyes, and felt his heart soften somewhat. The brunette moved so that he could hug his lover, only to be quickly dragged down onto the bed and underneath the blankets. He attempted to protest, but all indignant responses left as soon as Wesker held him, resting his head on Chris' shoulder.

"Mmm...don't leave...you make an excellent pillow..."

Chris smiled, cradling Wesker's head like a mother would a child, stroking his hair soothingly. This loving little moment was interrupted, however, when he felt a hand on his ass, lips against his neck and heard the blonde chuckle, "You make an excellent distraction, too."

**/**

_Number 24 - Aroma_

Being the only one in the relationship that had a decent chance of not making the oven explode, Chris found himself cooking much more often once he moved into Wesker's apartment. It only made sense, to him, that the man should at least get a decent home-cooked meal a few times a week. When he'd been living with Claire he had always made sure that every now and then a good, hearty meal was put on the table, and not just microwave noodles or soup, or whatever ridiculous creation his sister deemed edible.

It wasn't just the fact that if he left Wesker by himself the cupboards would slowly fill up with ramen that he cooked so often, though. It was just the _smell. _There was something about the scents that came off a particularly well-done meal that perked him up. Restaurant food, although nice, just didn't have the same feel to it. Maybe it was the fact that he had put so much effort into making the food that made him happy about a job well done.

Chris particularly had a thing for the smell of freshly baked bread. The rustic, warm smell cast his mind back to when he was a kid, and his mother would let him help in the kitchen. It was why one of his first purchases when he got his own place was a breadmaker. It just sparked the little endorphins in his brain and made him almost high. So cooking for Chris wasn't a chore, but a pleasure.

In some primal section of his mind, from well before the days of civilized society, the simple act of providing sustenance for his mate filled him with a warm feeling that he couldn't describe. Wesker's praise (a rare but wonderful thing) for his cooking skills was just a bonus.

**/**

**AN: The fluff. THE FLUFF. OH DEAR SWEET JESUS. Ha, This set is probably one of the fluffiest so far, felt I was maybe being a bit too kinky and not focusing on the emotional side enough (although kinky is fine, too...). In other news, if you want kinky WxC I have started a story called "Misery Loves Company" that is promising to be to the brim with sexual tension and all that good stuff. Only one chapter so far, but the second one is halfway done at the time of writing. Adios, and don't forget to review!**


	8. Part 8: Snow and Room Service

**AN: Ahahaaaa...Christ. Uni has been busting my ass, and I've been travelling all over England at the same time. What fun! Heh, but seriously, I know I haven't been updating much lately, but I should be able to devote a lot more time to my writing in a few weeks. Anyway, enjoy!**

**/**

**Snapshot**

**Part 8**

**/**

_Number 5 - Snow_

The first snowfall of winter was always magical for Chris. As soon as the first flake hit the ground, he was outside dancing in it. So what if people thought it was somewhat childish? Chris hated anything to do with the cold normally, but when the snow started to fall he made every excuse he could to go outside. There was just something about it, and the promise of the oncoming festive season, that filled him with a warmth that made any cold temperature null and void.

But what he particularly enjoyed about snow was that snow meant winter, and winter meant _Christmas. _

Wesker had to say he had never met anyone who enthused over the holiday quite as much as Chris did. Most of Wesker's winter festivities up till then had been quiet affairs with Birkin's family, or simply spending the holiday by himself. He had never properly celebrated Christmas in his life. When Chris heard this, he immediately started to go all out on what he called 'Wesker's First Christmas'. Now, normally Chris would have put up every decoration known to mankind, but this year he was putting up every decoration known to man and then some.

Moving around in the flat became somewhat difficult, with the amount of tinsel and oddly-placed decorations. One had to be careful about opening doors, lest they be attacked by the multi-colored shimmering ropes. The brunette had insisted that they get the biggest tree that they possibly could, but Wesker managed to talk him down to a modest 6 foot tree instead. While that may not seem like much, Chris had originally wanted one _double _the size, so he felt he had done a good job.

On Christmas morning, Wesker awoke to a mountain of messily-wrapped gifts, a grinning Chris and a hot cup of coffee. After swapping gifts (Chris' idea) and a quick lovemaking session (Wesker's idea) Chris had been running around like a headless chicken, nervously trying to produce the best Christmas dinner he could. He had been so nervous he had completely outdone himself. Comments from Jill, Forest, Claire and all their other friends were all in praise of his cooking skills, which rendered Chris blushing as red as the expertly-crafted cranberry sauce.

As time ticked on, their friends started to leave one by one, until by around 9 oclock that night Chris and Wesker were the only two left in the flat. Wesker had settled down to read a few pages of his latest book (one of the gifts from his lover) when he was pounced upon by the happy young man.

"Did you enjoy your first Christmas, Wes?"

Although Wesker wasn't one for romance, he couldn't help but think Chris' smile when he answered yes was the best Christmas gift in the world.

**/**

_Number 23 - Room Service_

Chris harshly groaned in loss as he felt the long fingers slide out of him with a slick _pop. _He arched towards his lover, feeling suddenly very empty. "Fuck...Wes, don't tease right now, please just...do something..." The brunette felt strong hands guiding him around onto his front so his face was pressed into the soft hotel sheets, pulling his ass up and his legs apart. He opened his mouth to tell Wesker to just _get in him already, _only to cut himself off with a loud yelp of part-shock part-pleasure as he felt his lover's tongue dart across his entrance, circling the quivering ring of flesh. Moaning louder, he lent into the ministrations, biting his lip hard.

Wesker had surprised the team that weekend by stating they were all going to some police-force conference in Florida, supposedly as an example of a good team and to spread the idea of STARS to police forces across the country. To Chris it sounded a lot like a waste of time, but when Wesker mentioned they would be near one of the most beautiful beaches in the US, it suddenly began to seem like a good idea. But it had all been a lie. Well, not exactly. Whilst it was true they were there for a conference and it was true that they were near a fantastic beach, he had seen nothing but the ceiling of the hotel room since they had gotten here that morning. As soon as the door was shut, Wesker had dumped their bags on the side and tackled Chris onto the bed, thus starting their little romp.

Chris should have gotten the hint from the fact that they were arriving there a day earlier than everyone else, really.

"Ahhnngg...o-oooh-!" Chris' whines went up a pitch, feeling calloused fingertips playing with the tip of his glans, the other hand running nails erotically over his very sensitive thighs. He choked back a sob before gasping, "G-god _dammit, _just _fuck _me already!" Chris moaned as the tongue departed, only to be replaced a thick, firm pressure that Chris immediately recognized as cock. _  
><em>

_"Yeeesssss..." _he heard the blonde hiss in pleasure as he pressed inside. Chris could do nothing but pant roughly, any noises dying in his throat as his mind blanked out. When his lover was up to the hilt, he gave a whimper of Wesker's name, rocking back to signal he was ready. The pace started slow, barely more than a slight shifting of hips, but very quickly got faster until it was just virile slamming. They shifted position several times, until Wesker was on top, Chris' legs slung over his shoulders and the poor young man almost folded in half. Chris kept moaning for more, getting louder and louder as he felt the tightening sensation in his lower belly that told him he was close.

Needless to say, the two were far too deep into the throes of passion to notice the light knock on the door and the _click _as it opened.

"Room servi-"

And suddenly all action in that area ground to a halt. Wesker was paused in mid-thrust inside his lover, looking over his shoulder with could only be described as a 'well shit' expression. Chris had simply frozen in shock, left eye twitching as he realized just what this complete stranger was witnessing. _Him bent in half, another man's cock shoved up his ass and he was _enjoying_ it. _The bellboy had turned cherry red as he blinked once, twice. It took almost half a minute before the bellboy found his vocal chords.

"U-uh, I'm sorry sir-uuhhh..._sirs, _I'll just leave the trolley outside your room, o-okay?"

Taking a quick glance at Chris, and noticing his lover was going to be absolutely no help in this situation, Wesker gave a strained grunt. "Ah...that...would be best, if you would." Silence reigned in the room for several more seconds before the bellboy backed out of the room and swiftly shut the door behind him.

Still flushing bright scarlet, the young bellboy hit his head on a nearby wall with a soft _thunk_. With a weary air Leon ran his hand through his hair and sighed. _Well, now that's another reason I've got to get out of this job as quickly as possible..._massaging the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb, he started to make his way back to the lift. He wasn't even halfway there when he heard a loud shriek from the room he had just left.

_"OF COURSE I'M NOT STILL IN THE FUCKING MOOD, ASSHOLE!"_

**/**

**AN: I have been wanting to write a short piece where Wesker and Chris get interrupted in the middle of their...'activities' for a while, and just wasn't sure of the setting. Then I watched Get Him to the Greek...and this little nugget of an idea popped up. Ha, anyway hope you enjoyed and please do leave a review! Reviews are like cookies for my soul.**


	9. Part 9: Nyctophobia and Hide

**AN: Hello! I know it has been a ridiculously long time since I updated Snapshot, but I can assure you I am firmly back in the writing seat again! At the time of writing (9th July '12) there is a one-shot coming up that's just over 1/3 done (not for RE but still) and I'm hoping to get it finished before the end of the month. At the moment it's about 4,500-5,000 words...so yeah. Anyway, do enjoy the drabbles!**

**/**

**Snapshot**

**Part 9**

**/**

_Number 22 - Nyctophobia_

Wesker wasn't the only one who could be moody.

Chris, despite his puppy-like outward appearance, was almost bipolar in his mood swings. Once moment he could be docile, almost contrite, the next bouncing off the walls with energy, and the next seething with rage, most often directed towards _him_. It was almost like living with a PMSing woman 24/7 (although in an attempt to protect his testicles from being separated rather violently from his body, he would never tell Chris that). While he did find it rather amusing to rile Chris up from time to time, the seemingly random rage-fits were something he tentatively avoided at all costs.

The only thing Chris didn't do very often was cry. Wesker had only seen Chris cry once, and he never wanted it to happen again.

It had been a late November evening, when Raccoon City had been hit by a freak thunderstorm. They generally didn't get thunderstorms in their area in winter (normally it was just cloudy and dull) and Wesker decided to use the enforced day off to get caught up on his latest book. He had been sat in the lounge while Chris was off in the bedroom, probably watching cartoons on the flat-screen TV the brunette had insisted for some ridiculous reason that they get in there. Wesker had been against the idea at first, but when Chris casually mentioned that he might be willing to try out the whole dressing-up thing to spice up their love life, the blonde had gone and gotten the biggest flat-screen he could find.

The male antagonist was just starting to succeed in seducing the page-boy hero of the medieval novel (erotica was something he never got tired of, both for the literary talent and other things) when a resounding crack boomed through the apartment and the lights all died, leaving him in an almost pure blackness. He put his book down beside him, being careful to mark the page, and sighed deeply at the inconvenience, letting his eyes get adjusted to the darkness for a second before he went to find candles and a torch.

About thirty seconds passed before he rose and went to the cupboard next to the bedroom door where he kept such emergency supplies. Just as Wesker opened the cupboard, he heard a strange, almost strangled noise. He paused, wondering if it might have been the cupboard's hinge, but he heard it again - it sounded like someone was hiccuping. Frowning, he grabbed several candles, lighting one and cursing the fact that he had forgotten to put the new torch in there. There was only one other person in the apartment at the moment...

"Chris?"

His query towards the door was answered only by the soft, shaky sounds from behind it. A strange sense of apprehension and fear began to creep from his abdomen up into his chest, clutching his heart like long, sharp fingers. Trying to keep as calm as possible, he reached for the handle and opened the oak door slowly, letting the soft glow of the candle slip inside.

"...Chris?"

The hunched figure on the bed gave a hitched hiccough in response, shaking visibly. Wesker was at Chris' side in a heartbeat, placing the lit candle on their bedside table before sitting down next to him. As he placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder blades, two haunted, sky-blue eyes, filled with tears, fixed their gaze on a pair of almond-shaped gold orbs.

"Wes...d-dark..."

A glistening trail ran slowly down Chris' cheeks, the first of many. Chris breathed in deep, gave a strangled sob and almost launched himself at the blonde, clutching onto him like a child would, the tears flowing freely. Wesker didn't know how to react. Fear was something he wasn't familiar with. He had barely known it in all his life. So comforting someone who was obviously terrified wasn't his strong suit. But this was still Chris. _His Chris. _And he knew how to comfort his Chris. Wrapping his arms gently yet firmly around the brunette's back, he pulled Chris onto his lap and murmured soothing words as Chris cried his fear, fear of the unknown, fear of the shadows, fear of the dark that surrounded their small bubble of candlelight and subconsciously, fear of life without Wesker.

After that night, Wesker made sure that their apartment had a backup generator, just in case.

**/**

_Number 9 - Hide_

This happened _every _time.

No matter what sort of occasion it was, he would find it. No matter how hard Chris had thought about where to hide it, he would find it. If Chris had specifically chosen a time when Wesker was out of town, gone out and bought it then hid it before Wesker came back, he would find it. It was like playing a game of cat and mouse where the mouse had no legs. It was ridiculously, undeniably _impossible_ to hide presents from Wesker.

The fact of the matter was, Wesker was just too damn observant for his own good.

It never failed to unnerve Chris just how superhuman Wesker's powers of observation were. Maybe that was part of the reason that made him such a good captain - he could take a passing, cursory glance at a person and tell you absolutely everything about them, from the color of their hair to whether they had freckles or not, even down to the color of their socks. It wasn't just the visual things Wesker was good at finding, though. His talent extended beyond the physical into the somewhat abstract realm of human emotion, sensing even the most minor fluctuations. In some ways, the world of the physical and emotional were bound together so tightly it was almost impossible to call them separate. Maybe that was part of what drew him to the tall, quiet man - that he was the almost complete opposite of himself. Chris could run headfirst into a situation quite happily without knowing which way was up, while Wesker hung back, observed, noted, and reacted.

And as much as Chris would say he _hated _how perceptive the blonde was, he felt grateful every time he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, silently supporting him when he felt he was about to break from stress. He felt happy whenever the captain purposefully brushed their hands together in the corridor. And he felt felt perfectly content whenever long, pale fingers stroked his hair at night.

But at times like these; when Wesker was holding up the little box containing the watch that was supposed to be his 36th birthday present (which wasn't for another MONTH), smirking like the cat who got the cream, Chris undeniably hated how he could hide nothing from Wesker.

**/**

**AN: The first one was originally going to be called _Moody, _and started on that premise. I realized halfway through that it was turning into something else altogether, so discarded the title but kept the starting point. I don't know why, but I sort of like the idea of Chris having an almost childish phobia, like fear of the dark or something like that. In this part I kind of wanted to show Wesker's more caring side (he doesn't think about sex all the time you know) as I fear I've made him more into that sort of one-track-mind character. Anyway - I do hope you've enjoyed, please do leave a review (I love nothing more than hearing feedback on my work) and see you soon!**


	10. Part 10: Argument and Regression

**AN: WELL. I haven't updated in for-EVER. I am very, very sorry for the lack of writing. I appear to have gone through something of a creative drought. But as autumn rolls around I appear to be getting back into the swing of things. I apologize for the lack of quality in this one, but I had to get something out. I couldn't go much longer! Anyway, I know it's all sad and angsty, but enjoy anyway!**

**/**

**Snapshot**

**Part 10**

**/**

_Number 26 - __Argument_

For them, arguing was akin to breathing. Not a day went by without some disagreement or dysfunctional event between the two of them. It was just how their relationship worked. Some relationships were fueled by lust, forbidden passion, friendly affection or even love - theirs was fueled by the ability to regard each other as equals, despite whatever misgivings they may have about one another. Arguments could be good or bad things, and in their relationship they were usually the former.

But this.

This was bad.

It hadn't been an argument. It had been a full-blown screaming match.

Chris sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at apparently nothing. The storm (thank fuck there was no sign of thunder) was pounding the windows like their was no tomorrow, the sound reverberating through the silent, dim atmosphere. The shattered remains of what used to be a table lamp were opposite him, almost mocking him with their sharp edges and cruel truths. He desperately looked away. He felt as if he was going to be sick.

_"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? CAN'T YOU FOR ONCE JUST STOP AND THINK ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE?"_

_"I THINK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE ALL THE TIME-"_

_"THINKING ABOUT SEX WITH ME ISN'T 'THINKING ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE', ALBERT!"_

The lamp wasn't the only thing that had sustained damage. A crumpled bit of metal and plastic somewhat resembling a radio was next to the front door, and Chris' pet plant, Charlie, was laying forlornly next to it. With a defeated, weary sigh, he just about managed to get to his feet and make his way over there. Chris fondled Charlie's glossy green leaves as if apologizing.

_"GODDAMMIT, CHRIS, WOULD IT KILL YOU TO SAY YOU'RE SORRY?"_

...no, no he couldn't think about that. Not right now. He wasn't sure he had the emotional stability at the moment to look back on their row of barely an hour previous. At that very moment, all he wanted to do was go to bed, hide under the blanket and pray that this was some sort of horrid, cliche-ridden nightmare, that it would all be gone in the morning and he could go back to life as he'd come to know it. His, and Wesker's, life as he'd come to know it.

_Fuck._ Was every single one of his fucking thoughts connected to that man? He refused that possibility that he was nearly as obsessive about Wesker as the blonde was of him, despite the little ring of truth that glittered. He wasn't like that...that.._.can't even use the word bastard to describe him, can I?_ Chris righted the little pot plant, still absently playing with one of the leaves. The word had been used as a term of endearment to the older man too many times in the past for him to bring it up now. The brunette closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.

Several long minutes passed, the movement of time only noted by the soft tick, tick of the clock on the living room wall. Chris only realized he had started crying when he opened his eyes to a world blurred by tears. His grip on the leaf became tighter, almost tugging until the little piece of foliage snapped off in his hands.

"...shit, m'sorry Charlie-" he cut himself off. Fuck. _Fuck._

He stared at the leaf as a nauseous, tight feeling crawled into his throat. Fighting it was futile - Chris finally gave a small, hitching sob. It wasn't long before the shaky breaths escalated into plaintive wails, and there he was howling his pain and sorrow. Once the dam had been broken, there was no holding it back. He took breath only to fuel his emotional, desperate breakdown.

Chris cried for a long, long, time, curled on the carpeted floor. His sobs and lonely whimpers sounded like a wounded dog or a child, lost, cold and alone, and unknowing when the person they loved would come back. _If_ they ever came back.

**/**

_Number 10 - Regression_

Wesker hated driving in the rain. He hated absolutely everything about it. He hated how the rain made it nigh-on impossible to see, even with the wipers going, he hated how other people would act so ridiculous when driving just because it was raining, he hated the feel, he hated the sight and he hated the sound. The obnoxious spattering along his windshield and bonnet only served to add further painful stimulus to the roaring in his head.

The car park he'd chosen was a few blocks down from his and Chris' apartment, although it had not been his first choice. Having discovered a lot of other car parks were full, blocked off by roadworks or charged just ridiculous rates, he'd settled on a relatively small one just off the main road, near a block of industrial buildings.

He rested his head on the steering wheel, barely gripping the sides. It was uncomfortable, yes, but it brought a strange sense of relief to him. The discomfort was something physical that he could hold onto, something that-

_"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS!"_

...something that could distract him from the flashbacks that kept assaulting him.

Wesker shook his head, slumping back into the driver's seat with the air of a man forty years his senior. After the fight, he had stormed out of the apartment with the intention of going somewhere, anywhere else, just to cool off for a while.

"...god...god_dammit_, Chris..."

Christopher James Redfield - the only person who could do this to him. The only person who could dig underneath the walls he had erected and pull him out, the only person who saw beyond the cold atmosphere and brought out his human side. The only person who reduced him to such pure, unfiltered emotion it hurt.

He thought that, as a child and morphing into the slightly dysfunctional adult he had become, he had been able to erect enough barriers that he would never experience this goddamn pain. Not again. Not like the times he had been alone, surrounded by people, aching for some form of human contact but unable to achieve it. His mother and father's cold nonchalance towards him had left him somewhat unstable - desperate for some form of affection from anyone or anything. And when he got the affection, the person that could make him feel wanted, loved - he placed them on a pedestal, holding them much, much too tight.

_Sound like a fucking woman, don't I._ A grim, pained smile played across his lips. Too bad it was the truth. And sometimes the truth was more cutting than the lie. He would like to say he was a strong, macho man who could set aside these feelings...but he simply couldn't. The lie may be easier to swallow, but the truth was easier to believe.

One thing was clear. He couldn't go back to being how he was before Chris. Not now, not ever. Regressing back into his old self would alienate the few friends he had managed to make, hurt the success of the STARS team...and push Chris even further away. He wouldn't do that. He couldn't.

He didn't just love Chris. He needed him. Like a fire needed oxygen, Chris' affection and company was the fuel that staved off the lonely, dark thoughts kept him going.

Wesker breathed in deeply through his nose, slowly settling the turmoil inside himself. He flicked the lights on and turned the ignition, putting the car into reverse.

This wolf didn't give up the hunt that easily.

**/**

**AN: Ah, that was fun. Well, I'm not really one for writing sad things (I try to avoid them as much as possible - I have a horrible habit of making 'dramatic ' scenes very one-dimensional) but maybe it was a step in the right direction to get me back into writing again. Hell, if I want to do this as a profession I've got to get some practice in, haven't I? As always, reviews are much welcomed, please give your thoughts now matter how critical and I will see you guys again as soon as possible! Ciao!**


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